


there's just me and there's just you

by closingdoors



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, a series of nighttime conversations, also.... yearning, post e111
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:48:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26689924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/closingdoors/pseuds/closingdoors
Summary: Beau doesn't know what to make of the way Yasha's looking at her, but Yasha's always been the one person she's found it hard to read. Sometimes she doesn't know whether she's just seeing the things she wants to see.A series of nighttime conversations that take place after episode 111.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Comments: 13
Kudos: 229





	there's just me and there's just you

And there's no super moon or superman for us  
There's just me and there's just you

**The Curve of Earth, Snow Patrol**

It takes some fumbling and ransacking her brain for the minimal Zemnian she's picked up from Caleb, but Beau finds her way to the kitchen in the dead of night. The amber cats _mrow_ and cluster around her feet, but she's not the only one they're serving tonight.

"Uh, hey." 

One of the cats hands Yasha a stack of pancakes. Yasha looks up at her and smiles solemnly.

"Hello, Beau." 

Beau rocks back on her feet. 

"You, uh... you really like pancakes, huh?"

"Oh, yes. I think they are delicious." 

"You should try some of Jester's pastries. I think you'd like them. Just make sure she doesn't give you the ones from the bottom of her bag, they're usually super stale and covered in lint."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Beau doesn't know what to make of the way Yasha's looking at her, but Yasha's always been the one person she's found it hard to read. Sometimes she doesn't know whether she's just seeing the things she wants to see. 

"Would you like to share?" Yasha asks. "I'm not actually very hungry right now, I..."

"Couldn't sleep?"

Yasha nods. "Something like that."

Beau sits across from her at the table. The lighting in here is different at night. The globules are dimmer. It makes her eyelids heavy, but all she'd done when she'd retired to bed earlier is toss and turn, thinking about all that unturned earth and the emptiness inside. 

Part of her had been expecting it, and maybe it makes her an asshole, but she'd really hoped that Molly _would_ be there. The thought of him - out there, traveling with others and not them; it's a pain too reminiscent of the woman sitting across from her right now.

They eat in silence. Beau's too tired to fill the quiet, and it's kind of nice, really, just spending time with Yasha.

"You've been doing a good job, you know," Yasha says.

Beau rests her cheek on her hand. "With what?"

"Connecting the dots. You're very clever."

"You sound surprised."

"No. Not surprised. I have always known you are clever. You are a very talented woman, Beau." Yasha stands and the cats take the empty plate; Beau hadn't realised how much they'd eaten. "Good night."

Her stomach is warm and full when she gets back to her room. It makes it easier to sleep.

Her desk is overflowing with pages ripped from books and her own notebooks. Her handwriting has turned to a scrawl now, her hand cramping as she repeatedly circles _the nine eyes._ The circle has made an indentation in the page and she's sure the ink has probably seeped through to the next. 

Beau curses under her breath, leaning back in her chair and dragging her hands through her hair. It hangs around her shoulders, free from its up-do, scraggly from how she's been frustratedly running her fingers through it. There's something she's missing, she's sure, something that'll piece all of these things together. 

There's a knock at her door. Beau glances at the time - surprised to find it so late. 

She expects Jester, maybe, up and about pulling pranks to cover the teary-eyes she's had since she scried on Molly. Instead Yasha's tall figure fills the frame. 

"Yasha." She can't help it, she smiles on reflex. "Hey. You, uh, lost or something?" 

"Oh. I was going to ask if you wanted some company, but I can go..."

"Wait, no, I didn't mean it like... you can come in. If you want. I always wanna hang out with you." God, she could kick herself. "I mean, whenever - "

"Are you going to let me in?" Yasha asks with a smile.

"Yeah. Sure."

It's different, having Yasha here without the others. Intimate, even more so than when Yasha had spoken about the mirror. Which had just been - god. Thinking about the nine eyes takes up ninety percent of her brain power, but the other ten is still dissecting that one comment.

"How'd you know I was still up?"

"I had a feeling," Yasha replies, eyes sweeping across the stacks of paper on the desk. "Have you found anything new?"

Beau drops down into the chair, tilting it back, balancing herself with one foot on the edge of the table. She rests her arms behind her head. Yasha watches her and her skin feels warm, alight. She's suddenly very aware of how alone they are right now. She lets the chair drop down onto all four legs.

"No. I've even tried some of the books in this library, but half of them are just Zemnian fairytales. Besides, if Caleb had read anything about them in a book, he'd probably just remember it. I just want to be prepared, you know? I want to know what we're walking into."

"You're looking out for the group. It's very admirable."

Beau sighs, a rebuttal for the compliment on the tip of her tongue. She leans over her notes again, but there's an ache in her neck after spending hours slouched over the desk. She hisses and slaps her hand over it on reflex.

"What's wrong?" Yasha's instantly hovering beside her. "Are you hurt?"

"Nah, I'm fine. Just a crick in my neck. Probably should've paid a little more attention when the monks taught us about proper posture or whatever."

"Here. Let me help."

"How -?"

The words get caught in her throat because Yasha stands behind her, sweeping her hair over one shoulder to dig two thumbs into her neck. Beau's limbs immediately turn to jelly. There's a pleasant tingling at the tips of the fingers.

"You're full of knots," Yasha mutters.

Yasha digs her fingers in a little deeper as she continues to massage her way along Beau's neck and shoulders. There's a warmth to her touch. She's not hurt, not really, but it still feels like Yasha's hands are healing her.

Now she wishes that every surface of her room were covered in mirrors. She desperately wants to see Yasha's expression. There would be no hiding from each other, from their reflections. 

Eventually, Yasha's fingers turn from massaging to simply tracing. It takes a moment but eventually she realises Yasha's following the patterns of her tattoo. Her throat tightens. Her hands tighten to fists in her lap, but they feel empty, and she closes her eyes, remembering the feel of the rain and Yasha's hand in hers.

"I've never seen you with your hair like this before."

Yasha's hands are in her hair now, and Beau thinks if there were ever time she would break, it would be now.

"Beau?"

"Yeah." Her voice is shaky. She clears her throat. "It's, uh, it's easier to sleep with it like this. It's better to keep it out of my face when we're always ten seconds away from being jumped, though."

"It's very nice."

Beau can't take it anymore, she twists around and looks up at her. Yasha's eyes lock on hers for a beat and then she tucks an errand strand of hair behind Beau's ear.

"Get some sleep. It's late." 

"You too."

Yasha leans over her to blow out the candles. Everything goes dark and she feels Yasha's hair tickle her shoulders before she moves away, and then light fills the room as she opens the door and heads out. It feels like the light follows her into the hallway.

Beau tries to bolster herself with confidence as she knocks on Yasha's door the next night. It'd been another night of restless tossing and turning. The closer they get to leaving with Vess, the more trouble she's had with sleeping. 

Yasha doesn't answer immediately and Beau briefly considers waking Fjord up, even if it wouldn't be quite the same. 

Just as Beau turns to leave, the door opens. Yasha is bleary-eyed and her hair knotted at the ends.

"Oh, shit, I totally woke you up."

"It's alright. Is everything okay?"

"Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep. It was just a stupid idea."

"If it was your idea, I'm sure it wasn't stupid. What is it?"

Yasha has a way of disarming her so easily, yet Beau doesn't know if Yasha realises what she does to her. 

She hooks her thumb over her shoulder.

"Wanna go get a shitty drink at this inn we're technically staying at?"

Yasha's smiles are so rare but beautiful. The one she gives Beau now is no exception. It slants across her face, blossoming like a flower, and Beau realises with a jolt in her stomach that she'll never want anyone but Yasha's eyes on her again.

It's a sudden, intense rush of feeling and she's aware of her entire body suddenly, more so than usual. She wonders if it shows on her face. 

"That's a very good idea, Beau."

She tries not to let her hands shake as they make their way out the tower and downstairs to the inn. The thing is she's travelled far and wide and seen things few people would believe; laid with a myriad of beautiful, strong women; fought fake gods and lifted up another, but every path she's travelled has just been one that's lead her back to Yasha. All those other things pale in comparison. 

It's empty except for one scruffy-looking man already passed out face-down on the table, his tankard of ale still clutched loosely in his hand. It makes sense, considering how many rooms they've booked out. He's probably the only other one here.

Beau grabs them the drinks and Yasha chooses a booth tucked into the corner of the room. Some of the wood of the table is rotting and there's crude drawings carved into the table that lack Jester's flair. Their knees knock under the table and Beau resists the urge to fold herself over and over so she isn't visible anymore. She's still getting used to the idea of people _wanting_ her to take up their space.

"Cheers," she says, tilting her tankard towards Yasha.

"Cheers," Yasha returns.

Yasha watches her over the rim and Beau's leg bounces uncontrollably beneath the table.

"I was just wondering - and, y'know, you can totally tell me to back off and mind my business - but with everything going on with Molly... well, are you _okay_?" 

Yasha looks down. "I'm not sure. It's a lot. You all have had more experience with this than me."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well," Yasha blows out a long breath, lifting some of her hair, "I was the one who left last time."

"Not by choice, though."

"No. Not by choice," Yasha echoes.

There are so many other things she wants to ask. She always wants to pry. There's never a moment where she _doesn't_ want to know what Yasha's thinking. But she doesn't want to be too pushy. That's a new feeling, too. She's used to pushing peoples' buttons to get her way. 

The rickety door to the inn rattles as the wind picks up outside. Goose pimples prickle along her arms even if it isn't cold in here. She aches for the fireplace in her room. Briefly, she considers lounging in front of it with Yasha. Her face is alight with warmth then, hotter than any fire.

"It was raining at Molly's grave," Yasha says. She pauses. "I expected to hear thunder."

"You're still doing Stormlord stuff?"

"I don't think that ever goes away. The Stormlord, he... I think he is always with me, even if it sometimes doesn't feel like he is. It's comforting now, the sound of the thunder. I like it."

There'd been a long time she had cursed every storm she'd heard, and then a period where she had been desperate to hear one. Now she's not sure how she feels about them anymore. So long as it doesn't mean Yasha's going away any time soon, she thinks it's okay.

Beau takes a sip of her ale. It's room-temperature and pretty awful. Outside the storm goes on and she can see the way the tension slowly stars to slip from Yasha's shoulders.

"I wonder, you know... what it would be like if Molly was still with us. Like, would he get along with Cad, or how he would've handed Vo, or what his room would look like in the tower. It'd probably be as ostentatious as that damn coat. Asshole," she adds, her voice rough with tears. 

"Yes. I think it probably would be."

Beau's surprised to find her smiling.

"He was a bit of an asshole," Yasha continues.

She can't help it, she laughs. Yasha joins her. They lean towards one another. Their hands brush. 

"But, you know, sometimes the worst kind of people turn out to be the best," Yasha says lightly.

Beau's heart flutters in her chest. Yasha's hand slips into hers and the entire world zeroes in on the feeling.

The wind grows louder outside, followed by the sound of heavy rain. 

"If you wanted to go out in that storm and, I dunno, do your thing, you could. I'm just gonna get completely wasted and probably pass out," Beau offers.

"I'm fine right here. With you."

"Oh. Cool," Beau says. Her fingers flex around Yasha's hand and she feels Yasha's grip tighten. "Same. Not that I'd go out in the storm or anything, that's totally your thing and I respect that, but, uh, you know what I mean."

"Yes. I know what you mean." 

Yasha doesn't let go of her hand until Beau's walked her back to her room, their cheeks flushed with alcohol, laughter easier than it has been all week.

The next day, she finds Caleb doing questionable things with clay as he writes arcane glyphs on slate. Probably tinkering with some new spell. He barely registers her entering. She has to clear her throat for him to look up and notice her.

"Beauregard. How can I help?"

"I just had, like, one _minor_ suggestion for this place I wanted to run by you." 

"I'm surprised it took you this long. Normally you're very upfront."

"It's not actually about my room. It's about Yasha's."

He raises an eyebrow. "Does she want a mirror too?"

"Dude." She shoots him a look but he smiles in that way of his anyway. "I just thought... could you, I dunno, make the sounds of a storm every now and then? In her room? Not all the time but just... sometimes. A little bit of thunder." 

Caleb goes very quiet and Beau wonders if that goes beyond the limitations of the spell. Caleb has always been talented, that's for sure, so she hadn't thought twice about the request until now.

"Why didn't Yasha come to me about this?" He asks.

"It wasn't her idea. Maybe she doesn't even want it, you should probably ask her. I just thought that it'd be... nice."

Caleb nods. "Alright." 

"Thanks. I'll uh, go back to the books now." 

She gets as far as the door before he calls her name.

She looks over her shoulder. "What?" 

"You are a very good person," he says. He's so sincere it makes her chest ache. "I thought you ought to know." 

"That was really weird," she replies. "Have you hit your head?" 

He laughs and goes back to his spells. When she makes her way back downstairs, she swears lighting flashes past some of the stained glass windows.

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: beauregardslionetts  
> twitter: beauslionett


End file.
